Chapter Seventeen

 

 

 

COLD. SO VERY COLD. Isa woke up shivering, her arms tied over her head.

She pried open her sticky, swollen eyes. But even with them open, her field of vision was dark and hazy. She couldn’t open her mouth and the air smelled faintly of rubber. An oxygen mask? The faintest memory of Alec carrying her against his chest surfaced. Never before had she felt so sick. Even now the bites to her legs throbbed. Had they become infected? Was she in a hospital?

Consciousness trickled back. This was no bed. Water lapped at her face, and her wrists were bound together. Somehow she was suspended, half-floating, in water. Something was terribly wrong.

Fighting a rising nausea, she pressed her face against her bare arm. A tube sprouted from the inside of her arm, the insertion painful and both covered and secured by a tight bandage. A saline drip? From the mask covering her mouth and nose, a hose extended, providing a source of oxygen. And goggles covered her eyes, most likely to protect them from the water. But why the smoky and distorting obfuscation lenses?

Heart racing, she yanked on whatever bound her wrists‌—‌and found them tied to the edge of…‌ what? She kicked, her bare foot connecting with a smooth surface. She listened to what she could not quite see. Ripples of water sloshed against a wall some two feet away.

A tank? She was immersed‌—‌naked‌—‌in a tank of ice-cold water? Had she been so febrile, so feverish they’d needed to take such extreme measures to lower her core body temperature? How much time had passed? Hours? Days?

Isa kicked again, thrusting herself upward in an attempt to reach her face, to rip free the mask and call for help, but she couldn’t curl her fingers beneath the edge of the mask.

There was a scratchy sound of something sliding over the rim of a tin bucket, then a series of tiny splashes‌—‌sand or salt‌—‌as it hit the water’s surface.

Did they think her unconscious? Is that why no one addressed her, made an attempt to speak to her? She cried for help, but her chin was strapped tight, preventing her from opening her mouth, the sound that emerged more the squeal of a wild animal than a distressed woman.

“She’s awake!” a boy’s voice called from above.

At last. Trembling‌—‌from cold, fear and the unknown‌—‌Isa tipped her face upward toward the child, squinting through the smoky glass. A pale, unfocused oval bent over her.

Stiff leather soles tapped across the floor, approaching her. “So she is.” An unfamiliar man’s voice, one that seemed to come from beside the tank. His voice held no sympathy. No acknowledgment. Nothing but cold indifference. “A point that is relevant only in that it indicates she’s still alive. Add all the salt as instructed. The hydrometer indicates the salt water density is only halfway to the prescribed levels.”

Fear skittered down her spine, and her breaths grew shallow. From Alec’s careful care to a cold, dark tank of water. The man she’d become acquainted with wouldn’t have abandoned her to such a fate. Had something happened to him? What had gone wrong?

“Yes, sir,” the boy answered deferentially. More salt splashed into her tank.

Struck with an overwhelming need to know who held her captive, Isa submerged as far as the bindings on her wrists allowed, opening her eyes wide. Between the goggles and the thick glass that comprised the water tank, she could only make out a pale oval of a face, a vague form garbed in a white coat.

Isa kicked back to the surface with all her might, yanking on her wrists, gaining enough thrust to glance over the tank’s edge. But again the lenses of the goggles made it impossible. She sank back into the water and kicked the tank wall.

“Stop struggling!” the man barked. “You’ll dislodge the breathing apparatus. Or your goggles. Even a Finn can drown. Besides, the salinity is being raised to twice that of sea water. I assure you, even your eyes will burn.”

Isa froze. Finn. The man knew she was Finn. With her jaw strapped in place, she couldn’t even ask the most basic of questions.

“I’m trying to help you,” he continued, his voice harsh with annoyance. “You are infected with a particularly nasty protozoa, the caeruleus amoeba. The only other Finn to try escaping after the bite of our hyena fish died within hours. You, we might be able to save.”

The bites were infected? It would explain her fever, if not the callous treatment. Where was Alec? She tried to scream, but only a muted whimper reverberated through the mask.

“You have every reason to worry, Mrs. McQuiston.” He knows my name. There wasn’t enough oxygen flowing through the tube for her brain to process the implications. “You are quite the experimental patient. But I assure you, I have every intention of curing you. This time.”

Isa twisted about, willing her eyes to focus through the distorting lenses. There were more Finn? Here? In other tanks?

The man sighed, his voice heavy with irritation. “I’m told you are a healer with considerable medical experience. If you’ll calm down, I’ll explain.”

Gulping deep breaths of air, Isa held still. But she was anything but calm. Terrified and, with each passing second, more and more furious.

“This procedure is the only hope of curing your infection,” the man continued. “Extremely cold temperatures slow the amoeba’s advance. Extremely high salinity will kill it. Eventually. But perhaps not before eating a good portion of your leg. The tube inserted into your arm is not just supplying you with much needed hydration, it’s raising your internal sodium chloride levels to the edge of that compatible with life. As the drip progresses, you can expect to feel thirsty, weak and fatigued. Your heart rate will increase. Along with life-saving saline, you are also being administered a drug, the specifics of which are proprietary.”

There was a loud thud and a slosh, the sound of another heavily laden bucket landing upon the platform beside the tank. Isa snapped her head about, trying to make out the features of the new, third pale oval to peer at the curiosity in the tank.

“My lord.” A woman spoke for the first time, her voice cautious and deferential. “You might wish to step away. It’s time to release the corpse fish.”

Corpse fish? Isa’s heart rate spiked.

“One at time,” the man instructed her. “Thomas, sit beside the tank. Fish them out with the net every fifteen minutes. The salinity is too high for them to last any longer.”

“Yes, sir,” he replied. “See? I have the net ready.”

“No!” Isa screamed into the mask. “Please, stop!”

“Maggots of the sea, Mrs. McQuiston,” the man said. “The fish are our assistants, here only to remove the dead flesh from your leg, to allow the saline to better reach the phagocytic amoeba which managed quite a lot of damage before you arrived at my facility. They will nibble upon your legs. Provided you float motionless. Kick them, and they’ll shy away, leaving necrotic tissue to accumulate. Live or die, the choice is yours.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and she blinked furiously behind the mask. Though she refused to believe that she was under the care of a physician at the Glaister Institute, neither could she discount the man’s words. As he spoke, the painful itching had crept its way up her legs.

Plop.

When the first soft nibble touched her flesh, Isa held still.

~~~

Alec hunted for Isa until he collapsed, but not from pain or exhaustion. Shaw had stabbed him in the back. With a tranquilizer syringe. “Traitor,” he whispered as he sunk to the ground.

“It’s been five hours.” His friend had dogged Alec’s every step, helping to search every last inch of the Glaister Institute. “We’ve looked everywhere, spoken to everyone. She’s not here.” After ditching the armored vehicle, Shaw had returned, replacing Logan as chaperone while his brother attempted to locate Isa via more official channels.

“Not quitting,” Alec gurgled.

“You are for now.” Shaw groaned as he hefted Alec’s weight into a creaky, old wooden wheelchair. “I’ve been listening to that knee of yours grind for over four hours, watching you limp. Don’t pretend you didn’t hear that loud crunch, the one that nearly threw you down a flight of stairs. That brace isn’t helping. If we don’t get you fixed, you might not walk again for weeks. How will that help your search?”

“Time…‌ first twenty-four hours…‌ most important.” His words were slurred, but Shaw had heard them all before.

“Which leaves us with nineteen.” Shaw shoved the chair into motion. “While you were stomping all over, I contacted the doc. He cleared his schedule. You’re getting an upgrade to titanium. It’ll take him four hours to change out the gears.”

“Roideach.” Missing‌—‌as always‌—‌from his laboratory, but at the moment he was the only suspect. “Keep. Searching.”

“Never surrender, never give up,” Shaw said, swinging the chair around to back through a door. “We won’t, not until we find out where Lord Roideach is and what he’s been up to while you take a nap. Let that subconscious of yours ponder the question.”

Alec bobbed his head in agreement as the white room swam. He eyelids grew heavy and slammed shut. “Marine scientist. Only possibility.”

Shaw spun the chair, backing them through the swinging door of the operating room. “By the time the tranq wears off, the doc will be done with repairs, and we’ll storm Roideach’s laboratory.”

“Promising my patient miracles, Mr. Shaw?” Hands lifted Alec onto a steel table and cut away the heavy cotton of his combat trousers. “A bit heavy-handed on the medication…‌”

“Gotta up the dose when you’re dealing with a man who’s lost his love, when he needs to rescue a damsel in distress.”

“Love?” Alec slurred, flapping a hand. “Just met. She’s…‌” What was Isa to him, anyway? More than an affair, yet still not his lover.

“I told you no more jumping out of dirigibles. You’ve stripped the teeth off the hypoid gear. You’ll have your knee working in four hours, but it’s going to hurt.” Steel tools clanged on a metal tray. A bright light shone through his eyelids.

“No ether,” Alec begged.

“Sorry,” doc said. “But I can’t have you moving.”

A mask fell upon his face, the strong, pungent smell spinning him away into a deep abyss where he hoped he might dream of Isa.

~~~

“Wake up!” A hand slapped her face, but Isa could barely bring herself to care. The cold had carried away all her aches and pains, and the shivering had finally stopped. Sleep beckoned, offering a welcome release.

“Too many have died.” A man’s voice boomed, echoing off distant walls hidden in shadow. “If we lose this one, it will not matter that we have eradicated the caeruleus amoeba.”

“The sensor indicates her body temperature has fallen to thirty degrees Centigrade,” the woman, his assistant, stated. “We might have pushed her too far.” Her voice suggested that the next time Isa was stretched out horizontally, it would be in a coffin.

“Discovering the temperature limit of a Finn isn’t enough,” the man said. “We need solid proof that the attachment procedure will work consistently. We can’t lose her. Besides, do you not realize who she is?”

“I’m well aware, my lord.” A hint of insolence laced her voice.

“Then make it happen. Bring her back.”

Isa started to float away. Calm waters beckoned. So peaceful.

Fingers wrapped about Isa’s wrist. Another set of fingers gripped her chin. “Blue lips. Pulse of twenty-five beats per minute. She’s barely breathing. Three breaths a minute.”

“Increase the percentage of oxygen through the line, Miss Russel,” the man ordered. “And it’s time to begin raising her core temperature.” A pause. “Thomas, shovel more coal into the boiler.”

“Yes, sir.”

Gas began to hiss through the hose attached to Isa’s mouth. Some distance away, there was a loud clang. The sound of metal scraping over stones. Another clang. A snap. And then the sound of flames roaring to life as the boy stoked a boiler.

Isa slipped back into dreams of Alec’s strong arms.

Only to be yanked awake once more. A current, tugging, pulling, sucking her toward the bottom of the tank, but her bound wrists refused to let her follow the draining water. Then warm water trickled over her hair, ran down the length of her body and dripped from her toes, slowly refilling the tank. Disappointment washed over her. So much for a peaceful death.

~~~

He dreamed of Isa. Of her long, red hair streaming down her back as she stood, hip deep in the sea. Of her bare skin shimmering in the moonlight as she glanced at him over her shoulder, a smile playing at the corners of her lips.

Fog rolled in from the ocean, reaching out with misty tendrils, engulfing everything but a long, curved tentacle that lifted into the air, water dripping from its many suckers. It snaked around Isa’s neck, cutting off her screams as it dragged her beneath the waves. Screams that continued to echo off the rocks of a nearby castle. Stones tumbled from the weed-infested fortress, crashing downward onto‌—‌

Alec bolted upright, blinking at the sudden change of scenery. Bright lights. A lingering chemical smell. Dr. Morgan and a bevy of nurses stared back at him. He was in the operating room. Falling backward onto his elbows, he dragged in a deep, ragged breath.

“Welcome back,” Dr. Morgan said, his voiced laced with sarcasm. “Unpleasant dreams? Knee’s fixed, a full hour ahead of schedule. You’re welcome.”

Alec stared down at his knee. After three surgeries, it was a railroad of stitches. Five new stitches adding to the pre-existing twenty-two, the scars beneath still pink and somewhat raw. “What, no bandage?” he rasped.

Dr. Morgan pushed a glass of water into his hand. “Figured you’d want to inspect the work. It’ll hurt, but only superficially this time. You’re lucky. I didn’t need to fiddle the bone attachments, but no more jumping from dirigibles.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll try.” Had Isa been found yet? Safe?

“Try.” Dr. Morgan sighed and passed Alec a sheet of paper. “Take a look at that while we bandage your knee. Shaw dropped it off while you were still under.”

Alec’s eyes widened at the list of names dating back some ten years.

Fifteen minutes later‌—‌ignoring stitches that tugged and burned, Alec banged on Roideach’s laboratory door for the third time.

The door cracked open. “Go away,” Miss Lourney said. “How many times do you need to be reminded. Your clearance was revoked. I can’t let you in.”

“I don’t need to come in.” He held out the paper Shaw had obtained from human resources. “Roideach makes a habit of hiring female laboratory technicians. Mine is the only male name to ever appear.”

“You really have no idea?” She stared at him for a long minute. “It’s why I tolerated you, Dr. McCullough.” Miss Lourney’s laugh was brittle. “For the first time, Roideach stopped standing too close, stopped measuring the span of my waist with his hands, stopped pinching my arse. For the first time invitations to his bed ceased.”

Alec’s jaw hung open. “Why didn’t you say something?” His irritation with Roideach grew every time he learned something more about the man. “Why keep working here?”

“Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes. “How many marine research laboratories will employ a female technician? Exactly none. There are two choices for us, endure or quit.” She reached out and snatched the list from Alec. “Let me see. Most of these are from before my time. I knew Bridget Stewart. She didn’t last long. One grope and she screamed. Erica Thompson won herself a promotion to Lister Institute in London. Flora Murray.” Amanda’s face twisted with pain. “Suicide by arsenic. Plenty of poisons to choose from when you work in a laboratory.”

Bringing a lord to justice was a near impossibility, though he could try. Alec was silent a moment, contemplating all his sister faced should she continue to pursue a career in chemical research. They would need to talk. Soon.

“Miss Russel,” Alec prompted. Isa was extremely ill, all else needed to wait.

“Has grand ambitions.” Miss Lourney met his gaze directly. “And fell into his lap a bit too quickly, not realizing that he can’t marry her or that her duties would include nursemaid.”

Alec raised an eyebrow. His understanding was that most gentry handed their children over to staff within minutes of their birth.

Miss Lourney threw her hands in the air. “I’ve no idea why he doesn’t hire one. In any case, her willingness to care for the child in exchange for the opportunity to work with Lord Roideach on some cherished and secret project funded by CEAP reflects that.”

“CEAP?” he nudged.

She shrugged. “Secret.”

“You must know something more about this project,” he pressed.

Miss Lourney stared at him a moment, then heaved a great, long sigh, handing him back the paper. “Most of their work is done off site, though they make free use of Institute resources. A few hours ago, Miss Russel was here, loading a satchel with supplies and gloating about a promotion. Better her than me.”